say, least of all with her. Still, Mr. Morris, you must remember this,
that even if you do not like her now--"

"Like her?" cried Morris; "I hate her."

"As I was going to say, and it is very hard for me to say it, Mr.
Morris, you have a duty towards her as you--we all have our duties to
perform," said Miss Earle, with a broken voice. "You must do yours, and
I must do mine. It may be hard, but it is settled. I cannot talk this
morning. Excuse me." And she rose and left him sitting there.

"What in the world does the girl mean? I am glad that witch gets off at
Queenstown. I believe it is she who has mixed everything up. I wish I
knew what she has been saying."

Miss Earle kept very closely to her room that day, and in the evening,
as they approached the Fastnet Light, George Morris was not able to find
her to tell her of the fact that they had sighted land. He took the
liberty, however, of scribbling a little note to her, which the
stewardess promised to deliver. He waited around the foot of the
companion-way for an answer. The answer came in the person of Miss
Katherine herself.

If refusing a man was any satisfaction, it seemed as if Miss Katherine
Earle had obtained very little gratification from it. She looked weary
and sad as she took the young man's arm, and her smile as she looked up
at him had something very pathetic in it, as if a word might bring
the tears. They sat in the chairs and watched the Irish coast. Morris
pointed out objects here and there, and told her what they were. At
last, when they went down to supper together, he said--